Silver Sable's Wild Pack
by David Golightly
Summary: A three part adventure that reinvigorates the Wild Pack! Silver Sable dies...or does she? R & R please!
1. Chapter 1

**Silver Sable's Wild Pack**

Issue #1 – "One Life To Live"

Plots by Barry Reese, Script by D. Golightly

* * *

The dark alley was coated with rainwater even though it hadn't rained for two days. The dank back streets of New York City always seemed to hold back the moisture, as if they were afraid to let go of that which brings life. The residents of those alleyways and crawlspaces had mixed feelings about the dampness…they could drink amply but whatever shelter they managed to erect was soon washed out.

A bottle of whiskey clattered to the paved ground of the alley, empty. Its contents had been drained hours ago but the owner had held out a long hope that there would be a few drops left over in the bottom.

The derelict, forced by economical circumstances that were beyond his control, had forced him to live in that alley. At least, that's what he told himself every night before he passed out behind a dumpster. He usually fell asleep wishing and dreaming of the things he had lost, the things he had left behind, or the things he never had the opportunity to have.

Money, a fancy car, an expensive wristwatch, polished shoes, a tailored suit, gorgeous women… they could have all been his if Fate had dealt him a winning hand.

Just before he dozed off into an alcohol-induced slumber, the sound of someone running through the collected puddles of rainwater snapped him back to attention. Was it someone coming for him? Would he have to defend himself just like so many other nights spent on the street?

He leaned forward to see around the dumpster, peering as much as he dared. The sounds of footsteps racing toward him grew louder as he matched them up with a sight that was both extravagant and frightening.

A well-endowed woman was running down the alley, clutching her side to hold back little gouts of blood from spilling out. She was dressed in a slick silver bodysuit that clung to her all the tighter from her exertion and sweat. Her hair, the most flamboyant part of her, bounced back and forth as she ran. It was even brighter than her bodysuit, reflecting the very moonlight that somehow managed to squirm its way down into the dank alley.

She hoofed by the bum without regard to him, even kicking a small splash of water onto him as she ran. He was too stunned to wipe the water off his face. Was he dreaming? Had that really been whiskey he had chugged down?

He watched the woman reach the end of the alley. It was a dead end and she appeared frightened when she realized that. She paused, catching her breath while she looked around the alley for another way out. She muttered something in a language the derelict didn't understand as she slowly let her hand off of her side. Blood poured down her leg and onto the grimy floor of the alley, blending its crimson color in with the refuse that society had chosen to forget.

He almost pitied her. She looked out of her element, afraid, tired, and worn. She was breathing heavily, as if she had been running for quite some time. What was she running from? Who was she?

She suddenly looked up toward the rooftops, startling the drunken man that watched her so intently. He listened to try and figure out what had caught her attention, because when he looked up all he saw was blackness. Another sound rustled, but it was nothing like footsteps. It was more of a soft slithering and it almost sounded organic somehow.

He stared, trying to focus on the same spot that she did, but found it difficult with all the blackness that night had brought. Then, almost as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, the darkness shifted and moved, accompanied by that slithering noise. A pair of blazing white eyes suddenly formed in the center of the dark mass that had been there all along, hidden by its own black skin.

The creature crawled down the fire escape and plopped down into the alley, landing almost exactly in between the bum and the woman. Its entire body looked like a moving shadow, swirling around inside itself even though it was vaguely humanoid in shape. Muscles protruded from its appendages, implying that whatever it was it had the power to do what it wanted. It faced the woman, its white eyes locked on to her. A large mouth formed under the eyes, complete with jagged teeth and a rolling red tongue. A white spider-like symbol appeared on its back and chest, familiar in its design.

"How many times do we have to kill you?" the creature said. Its voice was deep and resonating, somehow perfectly matching the way it appeared.

"You're the one that's going to die," the woman replied. Her one hand was clasped back around her gaping wound, desperately trying to hold back her lifeblood.

"Oh…we think not."

The creature lashed out with its right arm, a dark tendril of blackness leaping out and reaching for the woman's throat. She dodged to the side, wincing as the pain from her wound distracted her. The tendril missed initially, but it whipped around, lashing about for its intended target.

It slapped her across the face, drawing a streak of blood back as it returned to its owner. The creature drew its tongue across the tip of the tendril before it was reabsorbed back into its body, relishing the taste of the woman's blood.

"You taste even better than the last one," it said. "We will enjoy ripping your throat out…yes, we will."

The creature leapt at the weakened woman, bounding into the air and closing the gap between them in less than a heartbeat. It fell on top of her, grabbing her shoulders and pressing her back against the alley wall, its tongue lazily dropping out of its mouth and wavering in front of her face. Spittle dripped down in long strands but she met its gaze, all semblances of terror removed from her expression.

Her other arm suddenly sprung out, slashing against the chest of the creature. It fell back, more surprised than hurt, looking down at the cut on its torso. A long tear had been carved across the white spider-like symbol from a gleaming knife that was delicately balanced in the woman's hand. She smirked, trying to push herself up off the ground.

"And more defiant than the last one as well," the creature said. "But it will take more than that to kill us."

The darkness of the creature's skin swarmed over the slice in its chest, sealing it back up. In mere seconds all evidence of the attack was gone. It lunged forward once more, this time sending a tendril out ahead of it. The almost sentient strand of its skin rammed straight into her stomach, making her fall forward. Her eyes opened wide and blood dribbled out of her mouth. She tilted her head back enough to see the impressive rows of teeth that comprised the creature's mouth split impossibly apart.

The derelict cowering just a few dozen feet away tried not to scream in horror as he watched the creature close its mouth around her neck, chomping down with a sick satisfaction. Blood sprayed until several feet, coating the wall with dark liquid. The sound of flesh tearing covered her own muffled screams as her fire in her eyes died away.

The creature yanked back, his teeth still lodged in the woman's throat. Her head dangled around her shoulders, barely held to the rest of her body except for the spinal cord that kept it attached. Its long tongue licked the drops of blood off of its dazzling teeth, sucking the hot liquid down ecstatically.

Another tendril slowly worked its way up her dead body, not restricting itself from appreciating the curves of her athletic form. It finally reached her scalp, weaving its way between the strands of silver hair. The derelict saw a line of blood drool down across her lifeless face as the tendril poked into her forehead and proceeded to cut around her head.

It wasn't a dream after all. It was a nightmare.

The creature grabbed a tuft of her hair and pulled, popping open the top of her skull. Red and pink matter rested beneath, which seemed to hold the creature's attention for a moment. Then it crouched down and scooped up what its tendril could, devouring the luscious and soft brain.

The drunken man passed out from the horrific site that seemed like it belonged in a monster movie. His opened the next morning to look directly at the dead woman, her body still lying there yet ravaged.

He wished it had been a dream, but he realized that even nightmares can sometimes cross over into real life.

* * *

"_Early this morning police reported the discovery of the body of a young woman who had apparently been viciously attacked in the alley between 8__th__ Street and Mars Avenue. An area known for muggings and sexual assaults, this is the third incident this year that police have reported in this particular alley._

"_The woman, positively identified by her dental records, was the Symkarian diplomat to the U.S., Silver Sablinovia. More commonly known when associated with her mercenary Wild Pack as Silver Sable, she was thought to currently be out of the country until her body was found by officers on patrol._

"_The attack has been described by one source as 'extremely vicious' yet authorities have not released specific details concerning the incident. Captain Brian Hilliard stated in his press release this afternoon that the police have no reason to believe that this was a message to visiting diplomats from other countries. Captain Hilliard ended the briefing without taking any further questions, simply stating that details would be given to the public as they were made available._

"

* * *

The newscasts, special updates, exclusive interviews, and "complete coverage" continued almost obnoxiously over all the major networks, even those that weren't specifically geared toward news. Silver Sable's reputation had grown considerably over the years ever since her initial encounter with Spider-Man, which had resulted in international recognition for both her and her Wild Pack.

Her unique style and appearance had made her just as recognizable as any Hollywood star, making the sudden announcement of her death more shocking than people might have assumed. Her countrymen in Symkaria held a national day of morning in her honor, thousands of them bearing a silver armband to show respect.

Her remains were quickly sealed away and then moved to her home country. The transport cavalcade looked like a parade, with a total of thirteen cars as part of the procession to the airport. Security was kept tight as a precaution, although unknown to those partaking in the transport there were several other eyes watching them to ensure the safe arrival of her body.

The various vigilantes and heroes that called the city home laid a careful watch over Silver's remains, making sure that none of her enemies would take the opportunity to defile an international hero. Captain America waited at the airport while Iron Man flew high overhead the procession, monitoring even radio signals generating near the cavalcade's path.

Spider-Man, carefully swinging from tower to tower to the city limits, also devoted time to the transport. Still somewhat feared by the populace, he had chosen to stay out of sight as best he could. The last thing they needed was a riot caused by his presence, but he still made the effort to take responsibility for the safe arrival of Silver Sable's body.

As the coffin that held her remains was loaded onto the private jet that the Wild Pack used to travel the globe, the entire world looked on to make peace with the departure of a noble woman.

* * *

"I told you that I was not to be disturbed," Ernst Sablinovia said sternly. "What part of that did you not understand?"

The plush offices of Silver Sable International were decorated with the most exquisite furniture and art that money could buy. Always pushing that form followed function, Ernst made sure that his image would displace the rather questionable operations of the family company. Ernst's office in particular, on the top floor of their headquarters in Symkaria, was filled with the finest wood, priceless sculptures, and delicate tapestries from decades long since passed.

As he stood up from behind his desk, Ernst wished that his office was filled with more lethal adornments so that his uninvited guest might think twice about staying.

"I have only come as a grieving man, stricken with the loss of his wife," the intruder replied. His dark hair matched the shade of his tailored suit, underneath of which was a body in peak physical condition. "Surely you can't be surprised by my presence…Father."

"Your marriage to my daughter was a sham at best," Ernst shot back angrily. "Do not ever refer to me as 'Father' ever again."

The enigmatic man known to the select few only as the Foreigner smirked and bowed slightly in response. His hands casually held behind his back, he took a few steps into the room and paused, admiring the art on the walls.

"My only daughter is being buried this afternoon," Ernst said. "I have to leave for the airport now. Why are you here?" Ernst asked.

"As I said; I am nothing but a grieving husband."

"More like a treacherous leech."

The smirk disappeared from the Foreigner's face, replaced by a look of contempt. "There is nothing I want from _you_, old man. I'm merely here to accept my legal responsibility to my wife's estate."

"You don't even legally exist," Ernst stated. "How can you possibly hope to lay claim to anything of my daughter's when there isn't even a record of your marriage?"

The Foreigner pulled a slip of paper from inside his jacket pocket, holding it out for Ernst to take. He turned back to stare at the tapestries as Ernst unfolded the paper, shocked by its contents.

"This is a duplicate of a marriage license," he said with disbelief. "It's…obviously a forgery. This proves nothing."

"I'm afraid it does, _Father_. As you no doubt know, I have literally hundreds of identities in place all over the globe, which I can assume anytime I wish. When your daughter and I…_consummated_ our love, the name you see beside hers on that slip of paper is the man I was at the time. Legally, my fictitious self is entitled to her estate by right and by law."

The Foreigner swiftly walked back to the entrance, pausing when he reached the doorway. He turned back to face Ernst and couldn't help but smile again when he saw the look on his pseudo-father-in-law's face.

"Nice to see you again, Father. My lawyer will be in contact with you soon."

He closed the door as he exited, soliciting a scream of pure aggravation from Ernst Sablinovia. A small sculpture worth several men's salaries smashed against the door, shattering to now worthless pieces.

* * *

She felt cool liquid wash over her skin, slick and silky like condensed air. Her eyes popped open, stinging as the liquid flushed away. What little light was able to reach her pupils made her cringe even more.

She reached forward toward the light, confused and disoriented. Her hand smacked against a glass wall, stubbing her fingers slightly. What was this? Where was she?

She felt the liquid begin to move once more, its soft embrace being torn away from her. It was almost painful to lose it. She looked down and saw that she was lowering down to a metal grating as the liquid was flushed out beneath her.

There were several electronic chirps from somewhere nearby, then the glass wall…no, a _tube_…slid back and allowed fresh air to fill her lungs. No longer supported by the liquid, she fell forward and hit the floor hard. She slipped down onto her side and threw up what seemed like gallons of the liquid, her lungs sucking in oxygen. She gasped several times, both from the need to breath and the shock of her situation.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkened room. She noticed rows upon rows of monitors, each displaying scrolling bits of information that seemed foreign to her. She shivered, noticing for the first time that she was naked and that the cold stainless steel floor wasn't helping to warm her.

She feebly stood up, using the tube she had fallen out of for support. The back of the inside of her tube was also metal, shiny enough for her to see her reflection in. Her damp, hair hung around her bare shoulders, clinging to her smooth skin. She didn't know the person looking back at her in the reflection.

She turned around, desperate to find anyone that could help her. She was alone and scared, with no idea of who she was or what was happening to her. She managed to cross the floor to the rows of monitors, hoping that there would be some type of communication device there that she could use to find help. There were several switches and buttons per monitor, but none of them were labeled. Each monitor had exactly the same setup, but there was no way of telling what might happen if she were to start hitting things randomly.

Deciding that someone would eventually have to come if she accidentally did something wrong to the systems, she flipped the first three switches in front of her. A series of lights snapped on, illuminating different sections of the room around her. She spun around to see what she had done and was horrified at the site now on display before her.

There were several other tubes just like hers spread throughout the room, each with their very own woman inside that looked nearly identical to her.

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. What was happening here?

She began to hyperventilate. She had to get out of there, no matter what. Things weren't making sense, and she was beginning to wish that she hadn't woken up at all. Stumbling to the far side of the room where she saw a cabinet, she ripped the door open and rooted around inside for something that might be useful. She was moving on pure instinct, unsure of what she would even try and do.

Her hands fell on top of a pile of silver garments that felt like latex or possibly nylon. She unfolded them and pulled them over her still wet skin. The fabric clung to her tightly, but seemed to fit well enough. Her legs now more stable under her, she ran for the only door she could see, not wanting to spend another second with the hellish scenario in the room. She burst out into a long hallway, nearly tripping over herself in her haste.

"Hey!" someone called.

A man wearing white body armor was walking toward her with a gun leveled at her head. His eyes were covered by a pair of goggles, but he looked to be in his mid thirties. He slowed his approach as she returned his gaze.

"Oh, shit…" he swore.

The woman leapt at him, taking advantage of his hesitation. Before he could react she had smacked the barrel of the rifle down and spun into his stance, bringing her elbow up to slam into his nose. Blood squirted out from under his nostrils as she followed through with the hit, pressing her hip against his stomach and flipping him onto the ground in a perfectly executed judo maneuver.

She held onto his arm as he fell, yanking back hard in the wrong direction with it. The man cried out as his shoulder dislocated, but the woman moved like she didn't hear a thing. She quickly bent down and shot the side of her hand out, catching him just under his chin. The man fell limp to the ground, dead from a crushed windpipe.

She let his arm drop to the side of his lifeless body. Stunned by her own actions, the woman cautiously picked up the dropped rifle and began to sprint down the hallway. There was no telling how many other guards may come looking for her. She had to escape quickly.

Finding a stairwell, she ran up several flights before finally finding a window. Smashing the butt of the rifle against the glass, she shattered the pane and opened up her exit to freedom.

The woman's silver hair glistened in the moonlight as she leapt out into the night and into the countryside of Symkaria.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**Silver Sable's Wild Pack**

Issue #2 – "One Life To Live"

Plots by Barry Reese, Script by D. Golightly

* * *

"We are gathered to honor the memory of a heroic and patriotic woman…" 

Dark clouds slowly moved over the cemetery in an eerie and gothic semblance of people's emotions. The rain was held at bay by some unseen force, but the air felt slightly damp and heavy, physically personifying what the people felt through their mourning. Their silver armbands all shimmered in the dying day's light, signifying how a nation had rallied together.

The priest, a tall and wiry man with thick glasses, rattled off his practiced eulogy before several hundred people that had come to pay their last respects to the fallen Silver Sable. Murdered, the recognizable mercenary that had helped put the small nation of Symkaria on the map had been brought to her home estate the day before. Her father, Ernst Sablinova, stood still on the far end of the cemetery, watching silently with a concerned look on his face.

He never dreamed that he would outlive his daughter, but circumstances with a dash of fate had squelched the honorable notion.

"I don't see why we even have to be here," a man said as he approached Ernst. Even though the rain had yet to fall and the summer weather made heavy clothing uncomfortable, the man was dressed in a heavy trenchcoat with a wide-brimmed hat. "It's not like she was your _real _daughter."

"_You_ don't have to be here, Gaunt" Ernst shot back without removing his eyes from the lowering coffin. "She was my daughter, even if she was just a clone. Besides, with the large amount of media attention her death has received I had to be present. To do otherwise would look suspicious."

"Yes, well…I wouldn't be here if the information I have for you could have waited. At least, I assume you would want to know the identity of her killer right away?"

Ernst finally pulled his eyes away from the funeral. The man called Gaunt tilted his head back just enough to reveal his marred face from beneath the brim of his hat. His skin looked almost as dried as the corpses' buried six feet under them. Yellow teeth smiled at Ernst, the enamel having been worn down years ago. One section of his head had been completely replaced by some type of cybernetics, reaching down to his right eye that was now actually a telescoping lense. Even though Ernst had worked closely with this disgusting man for the last several years he would never get used to his appearance.

"What have you discovered?" Ernst asked eagerly.

"As you know," Gaunt began to explain, "our cloning process is not yet perfected. Even when you approached me years ago to try and resuscitate your real daughter, killed in the line of duty, I told you that there would be problems."

"Yes, yes," Ernst interjected. "The clones' conditioning eventually wears down and they go rogue. I presume that was what happened to my dau…to this young woman," he said, gesturing toward the casket across the landscape.

"This particular Sable was on a mission in New York City when we monitored a breakdown in her metabolism. She began to suffer from cloning degeneration, and the information we encoded in her mind began to misguide her. She was irrational and uncontrollable. We ordered the Wild Pack detail accompanying her to bring her in…but I'm afraid things got out of hand."

Ernst lowered his brow and ground his teeth together. "Even though she wasn't my real daughter, Gaunt, I still have no tolerance for this type of reckless slaughter. Who was it?"

"Edward Brock."

"Venom?" Ernst exclaimed, trying his best to keep his voice lowered as to not attract attention from the other mourners. "That psychopath hadn't been cleared yet for field status! When we recruited him in San Francisco he was almost more of a liability than an asset. I should have had him put down."

"If I recall," Gaunt interrupted, "at the time you felt a more, shall we say _devote_, Wild Pack was needed. The carelessness of the operation that cost your daughter her life years ago would never happen again under your guidance, which I believe is why you recruited me to bring her back to life. So to speak."

"Yes, yes. I needn't relive the past. The ceremony is almost done and I'll be expected to play the grieving father. You should leave before someone notices you…unless there is something else?"

"There is." Gaunt tilted the hat back over his face, as if he was almost worried about the look that he would receive from his benefactor. "There's been a malfunction in the lab. One of the clones has broken free, killing a guard in the process."

"Useless moron!" Ernst said through clenched teeth. "Find her immediately before the media picks up on it!"

"I was just awaiting your order to dispatch the Pack. She's underdeveloped, only having gone through a little more than half of the maturation process. She's roughly eighteen years of age as opposed to the desired thirty. Her programming is incomplete and she should provide little resistance once apprehended."

"Don't screw this up, Gaunt," Ernst warned as he turned back toward the funeral, which was now almost over. "I'm under legal pressure from the Foreigner's coup. I have no qualms about unleashing Venom on _you_ if necessary."

Silver Sable's father, a man of conviction, left the patchwork man called Gaunt behind as he returned to the hundreds of countrymen that had come to pay their respects. The last rays of sunshine fell behind a curtain of clouds, no longer illuminating the teary eyes of those that had come to pay respect to their national hero. Ernst mimicked their expressions as best he could, but found his mind wondering to the possibilities of his revealed scandal. If this young rogue clone was discovered by anyone but the Wild Pack, it could spell disaster for everything he had worked for.

* * *

It had been two days since she had escaped. 

The nights had not been kind to her. The young woman that had escaped the confines of some type of installation had barely slept since fleeing. She was tired, worn, and most importantly, hungry.

The landscape of Symkaria was sparsely populated. For all the attention that had been brought to the small country over the years it was still largely farmland. Some industry had moved in and thanks to outsourcing jobs were steadily on the rise, but it would be at least another decade before the economy really felt the effects. She had almost encountered a group of people alongside the ride, but for some reason thought it would be better to remain hidden for the time being, at least until she could gain her bearings.

What had been done to her? Who was she? These and many other questions were constantly in her mind, strengthened at night by the recurring dreams she suffered from. When she was able to find slumber, her sleeping hours were filled with visions of another life. Her experiences in those dreams seemed oddly familiar, but it was more like she was living out someone else's adventures. Names and faces had been etched into her psyche, but she couldn't understand why.

She knew that she couldn't hide forever. She needed help. She didn't know who she could trust, but as she saw a town appear miles down the road, she realized that without aid, especially food, she might as well give up and die like an animal.

The sign near the side of the road said it was only five miles into a town called Strudguard. Determined, she walked toward a place where she was unsure of what awaited her: salvation or damnation.

* * *

"Get your feet off the console, idiot. You'll scrap the whole CPU if you get sand in the damn thing." 

The Sandman leaned back in his chair, looking back at the man who had spoken to him so abruptly. "Keep it down, Paladin," William Baker, the former supervillain known as the Sandman, said. "I've got complete control over my molecular structure, remember? Now buzz off before I sandblast your face off for being such an asshole."

Paladin ripped the goggles off of his head, along with the headdress of his body armor. He stood in the doorway to their war room, which was situated in the subbasement of Silver Sable International. A vast computer network, the best that money could buy, ran along the one wall and was used to gather vital information for their assignments. A holographic display in the center of the room doubled as a conference table, and in the back of the room there were rows of lockers that housed some of their gear. The entire level was dedicated to their operation, but this room was the most important for their efforts, which was why Paladin hated it when the Sandman was on monitor duty.

"You're just a walking day the beach, aren't ya, Baker…" Paladin muttered as he entered the room and tossed his headgear onto the holographic display. "The old man is coming back soon, so pull it together. He'll want something solid on this rogue clone or he'll withhold our paychecks."

"He can save his money," a low and scratchy voice said from the back of the room. Paladin turned to see Venom perched atop the lockers, his tongue lazily hanging out of his ever-present toothy grin. "We are not interested in riches. We are satisfied with tasting the blood of our prey."

"Watch it, ugly," Paladin said as he pointed at the symbiote. "You're one of the reasons we're in such deep shit with the old man. If you weren't so damn bloodthirsty we might have avoided this whole thing. You couldn't have just brought the clone back in quietly, could ya? No, no...you just had to eat you some brains. Christ."

Venom simply licked his long and slender teeth with his drooling tongue, reliving the experience. Paladin swore again before smacking the Sandman's feet off of the console and sitting down to type in several commands. Even though whatever cloned Silver Sable Ernst and Gaunt stuck them with was technically in charge of their field efforts, Paladin was in actuality in charge of the Wild Pack. He had respected the real Silver Sable, the original, before she died. To think that her father was so arrogant as to actually let the world think she hadn't been brutally murdered years ago was a disgrace to her memory, but as long as the money kept being poured into his Swiss bank account he could bite his tongue.

He was a soldier, but he was a mercenary, too. Money makes the world go 'round after all.

"Relax, soldier boy," the Sandman said mockingly. "It's been two days. If she's still in the country then the grid hasn't had a single hit—"

A screen suddenly flashed to life, displaying a map of the northern countryside. A grid overlapped the map, breaking it down into sections, one of which began to blink. Paladin tapped some more keys, enlarging the area quickly. "That a fact," he said as he called up a video capture screen.

The black and white footage from a security camera showed the young woman they had been charged with tracking down. She was a dead ringer for Silver Sable, only many years younger. There was no mistaking her signature hair as well as the silver-clad outfit she had taken from the lab. They watched her kick in the door of a warehouse and enter almost timidly, as if she were confused by her own actions.

"I'll be damned," the Sandman said as he leaned in to get a better look at the screen. "Is that—"

"Our storage facility in Strudguard," Paladin replied. "Gaunt said that all the clones were programmed with a failsafe destination in case something went wrong on assignment. She's probably seriously out of it, unaware of what she's doing. She must be operating on whatever protocols had been copied into her synapses. I doubt she even knows why she headed for that building."

"Our prey is in the open," Venom said as he leapt off of the lockers. "Every second we waste is another moment that I cannot taste the softness of her skin."

"What is it we store there exactly?" the Sandman asked as he stood, ignoring the vulgar remarks of his teammate.

Paladin stood up as well, rushing to pick up his goggles. He headed for the lockers, tossing one open and retrieving several unique handguns, which he quickly holstered. "Weapons," he answered. "Call for shocktroops and have them meet us on the roof. Move your asses, Wild Pack. We have a target that needs eliminated."

* * *

Where was she? Why had she come here? The young woman couldn't answer those questions. Upon entering the outskirts of the town, she had taken certain turns that led her to this warehouse. She couldn't explain why, it just seemed to _feel_ right. 

Reaching the far wall, she felt along the interior until she found a large switch. Flipping it activated hanging lights in sequence, at first only illuminating the center of the bare floor. As the rows of lights turned on one after another, she saw that there were actually columns of hundreds of stainless steel crates piled in sequence all over the warehouse.

Turning back to the wall-mounted switch, she saw a touchpad beside it. Without thinking, her fingers danced over the keys, something specifically knowing what to press. The small screen came to life, scrolling information from top to bottom in green text. How did she do that?

"Retinal scan operational," a robotic voice said from a speaker at the top of the touchpad.

The woman flinched as a green light suddenly shone into her one eye, scanning over her pupil. The procedure was completed before she could resist, as the light shut back off and the screen displayed a crude image of her eye. Several sections of the image were highlighted by the computer before it verified her identity.

"Scan complete," the computer chirped. "Utilities now made available. Identity confirmed as Silver Sable."

A section of the wall slid back to allow a thin keyboard to extend out. Another screen appeared above the keyboard, with a blinking prompt beckoning her to input information. Silver Sable…was that who she was? Faint whispers of memory slowly crept back into her mind as she tossed the name around in her head. There was a sense of familiarity to it all, but she was still confused.

Her hands began to click away on the keyboard, typing in commands that she didn't really understand. After a few lines of code were entered, she stabbed the Enter key with her index finger. Several diagrams appeared on the screen, turning from red to green one by one.

Behind her, the soft sound of a metallic latch being released rang out several times. She whirled around, wondering what she had just done. The crates began to open, revealing their contents: rifles, ammunition, chain guns, grenades, knives, swords, laser rifles, shockwave emitters, landmines…the inventory seemed endless, but what scared her the most was that she recognized each and every last item.

Cautiously, she walked over to the nearest column of stainless steel containers, peering over to look at the contents. A pair of bowie knives stared back at her, curved at the top with thumb grips in the base of the handles. She picked them up, balancing their weight in her hands. The weapons felt right somehow, as if they had been molded to her hands.

Spinning around, she slashed her way through a series of movements. The kata felt appropriate as she extended the blades out and whipped them around in a specific manner. After completing the aerobic display, she spun the knives on her thumbs before holding them back up for her to stare at. The memory of killing a guard shortly after her awakening flashed in her mind. Was she a soldier? How else would she know these types of things? Obviously whoever this building belonged to…was it hers?...was some kind of expert in dishing out death.

Another series of chirps emitted from the wall-mounted workstation behind her, catching her attention. Running over, she saw several video feeds of the roof, which was occupied by a dozen people, most of whom had weapons at the ready. Three in particular stood out: a man garbed in purple and black body armor, another dressed in a pair of slacks and a horizontally striped shirt, and a beastly looking black creature with large teeth and a swiveling tongue.

"Take her down quickly, boys," the man in the purple said on the screen. He seemed to be the leader. "Alive if possible. The old man wants to plug her back into the tank if we can. 'Course…things happen, ya know?"

"We will guarantee her entrapment," the snarling black creature responded. "We cannot promise she will still have a pulse."

She took several steps back from the wall. Who were these people and why were they after her? They must be from the complex she had escaped from, come to return her like the man in purple had said. There was no way in hell she was going to let that happen. She was a living human being, not some fanatical experiment.

She gripped the knives in her hands, remembering the cache of weapons made available to her. She only had a few moments before they worked their way down and found her. Racing back to the opened columns, she started planning a welcoming committee for her would-be captors.

* * *

A thin strand of dirt moved along the side of the hallway, sliding in a straight line. At the end of the corridor, the strand paused, raising its tip and angling it around the corner like an antenna. The dirt…no _sand_, gritty in its appearance, slouched back down as it began to pile up upon itself. Eventually the grains of matter began to form a humanoid figure, a tall man with broad shoulders called the Sandman. 

"Stairwell's clear," he said over his shoulder.

A contingent of soldiers quickly moved down the hallway to catch up to their point man. Garbed in white body armor and hoisting slender rifles that had been custom built for their team, the shocktroops of the Wild Pack fell into formation.

"Paladin," the Sandman continued, "this is stupid. It's one girl, alone, mentally unstable, and probably ready to piss herself from being scared to hell and back. We don't need to be here for this. There's lots of other garbage I could be doing right now."

"We've got our orders," their field leader said as he stalked down the hallway alongside the shocktroops. He leveled his signature handgun, ready for anything that might blow up the stairs. "Plus, we're getting paid for this, don't forget. Time to earn you money, sandbox."

Irritated, the Sandman reverted his flesh back into the gritty substance he was known for, turning to recon the stairwell. He hated Paladin, but he liked having a group like Silver Sable International in his corner more. He had problems with the law in a few different countries, but running with the Wild Pack allowed him an extremely long leash to jump around on, with an owner that had one hell of a bite.

KA-DOOM!

An explosion rocked the stairwell, with Sandman taking most of the blast. Unprepared, his body was dispersed from the shockwave and sent scattering all over the shocktroops.

"Defensive positions!" Paladin called out to the troops. "That bitch must have found the stockpile! Frontline formation! Get—Venom! Stop!"

"We are not prone to cowering like children," the symbiote said as he leapt passed the entire contingent. "We will deal with this little girl!"

"Damned freak," Paladin muttered as he stormed off after his teammate.

Venom hopped onto the railing in the stairwell and shot a wad of webbing up to the ceiling. Stepping off of the railing he fell straight down, landing easily on his feet by yanking down on the webline, using it as a jump cable. He fell into a crouch, his tongue lapping at the air. At the base of the stairwell he could smell her…but she was gone.

The creature stabbed his fingers into the door that led into the main warehouse, slicing a row of slender holes into its thick, metal frame. The alien symbiote that covered Venom extended several black tendrils through the door, ripping it into half with its impressive strength.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" Venom chided. "We would like to play, little girl. Come play with us!"

Venom slowly stepped into the main warehouse, at first unable to see from the total darkness. The symbiote adjusted the eyes of its "costume" to compensate, but not fast enough. He felt the first bullet strike his right shoulder, quickly followed by a second and then a third and forth, peppering his chest. The bullets fell to the floor after being crushed against Venom's chest, doing no more damage than wadded up balls of paper.

"Tsk, tsk," Venom said as his gaze swept the warehouse looking for the sniper. "We cannot be hurt like that, girlie. We can smell your fear. You are wise to be afraid of us. Hide all you want, but we _will_ find you."

"Who's hiding?"

Venom spun around to catch a glimpse of his target, a silver-haired woman with a slim, athletic form. He felt the edge of her knife scrape across his face, the serrated teeth near the hilt chomping into his cheek. The knife in her other hand cut back across his face before he could react, cutting into his blood red tongue. He stepped back, more from surprise than from being injured, and wiped his black clawed hand over his elongated mouth.

"Cute toys," he said. "And apparently you have help. Found someone to snipe at us? Mmm… Nice of you to bring us desert after our meal."

"More like an auto-rifle," she replied as she charged the black goliath. "But if you want a gift, then here you go!"

She rolled under his slashing arm and slapped the side of his torso. Pouncing back up she spun around and did a series of back flips to put more distance between them. Her own athleticism surprised her, but she moved quickly and naturally, allowing her instincts, as foreign as they were, to take over.

Venom began to chase her like a wild animal, but he suddenly stumbled and fell over. He hunched down, feeling a stabbing pain in his side where the woman had tapped him. He hadn't noticed because she had moved so fast, but right where she had grazed him was some type of silver disc.

"Sonic emitter," she called out from across the warehouse. "It sends concentrated sound waves directly into your internal organs. I'm sure you'll pass out in a second from the pain of having your insides vibrated. Plus, something tells me you aren't too fond of loud noises."

She couldn't help but smile as Venom fell over, screaming in pain. Her memories were starting to come back once she saw the creature tear the door apart. The weapons she had grabbed from the cache were working so far, but she couldn't lollygag for long. There would be others making their way down the stairwell once they found and disabled the mines she had planted there.

A shot rang out and she dove behind a stack of the crates. Clenching her forearm, she pulled her hand back to see a few specks of blood on her silver glove. The bullet had just grazed her, but it hurt like hell. Venom's reinforcements were apparently already there.

"That was just a warning shot," Paladin called out. His handguns were leveled at the containers the woman had sought cover behind. "I have my guys surrounding the place, so you might as well just give up, sweetheart."

"Where the hell is she?" Sandman demanded as he slithered up behind Paladin. With more effort than he cared to admit, he had reformed his body and was ready to dish out from retribution. "I want that bitch to myself."

"Easy, sandbox," Paladin muttered over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of the containers. "Go get that thing off of Venom and then cover the west exit."

Grumbling as he quickly slithered on top of mounds of sand that had once been his legs, the Sandman ripped the device off of Venom without remorse. The creature screamed, shoving Sandman away and preparing to launch himself wherever he saw a foe.

The woman cupped a couple of grenades on her hands, preparing to toss them into the ceiling as a distraction. Maybe with a little luck she would be able to bulldoze her way through the guards the man in the purple armor had claimed were surrounding her. She recognized the men that were after her now, but she still didn't know enough about them to trust them, especially since they apparently wanted her dead. The images that had been downloaded into her psyche seemed somehow incomplete, like there were chunks that she knew should be there, but just weren't.

"We will use her intestines to floss out the rest of her entrails from our teeth!" Venom threatened. He took a few steps forward, but the Sandman blocked his path. "Get out of our way! We will force our way if we have to."

"Stand down," Paladin said as he holstered his weapons. His head tilted to the side as he tapped a button on his helmet. He muttered something the rest of them couldn't quite hear before nodding in response to whatever was said to him on the comlink. "Yes, sir," he finished. "Okay, boys. Time to get down to business."

Grabbing some type of remote control from his belt, Paladin hit a series of switches. She saw the red lights in the mounted cameras along the wall turn off.

"About damn time," Sandman said. The woman found herself wondering the same thing. Should she take advantage of the distraction?

"I've just sent the troopers back to the LT," Paladin said. "Our contact finally gave the collection order. Hey!" he yelled, directing his voice at the containers. "Little lady! You can come out from there now. I've got an offer to make you."

If she was confused before, she was definitely baffled now. First a bullet, now an offer? Choosing to at least get more information before blowing the hell out of an impromptu escape route, she relaxed her grip on the explosives and perked up her ears. "I'm listening," she said.

"What are you doing?" Venom demanded to know. "We should be eviscerating her, not making a date!"

"Shut it," Paladin ordered as he turned his attention back to their target. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're not really important to us right now. Lady, you're just a pawn in a chess game, and while we were here under the guise of a strike team, this has just become a rescue operation."

What was he talking about? Nothing was making sense. Just who were these guys and who were they working for?

"I'm probably not making a lot of sense right now," Paladin continued, "but you're going to have to trust me for a minute and hear me out. You woke up a couple days ago, unsure of what who you were and what was going on. If you want the truth, I can help you with that. All I'm asking in return is for you to come with us. We're not going to hurt you."

"What kind of assurance is that?" she demanded. "First you try and blow my head off, and now you expect me to just walk on over with my wrists held out? I don't think so, asshole."

"Fair enough," Paladin responded. "Our employer…our _real_ employer, that is…would like a word with you. He wants your help in bringing down the dirtbag who put you in this position."

Paladin placed the remote on the floor and kicked it across the room. The device slid to a stop just a few feet from where she was crouched, almost begging her to pick it up. "What's this?" she asked.

"Grab it and press the red button," he answered. "If you want to know where you came from and who you are, just press that button. You'll get all your answer, I swear. We're going to pull out now. When you're ready, we'll be waiting outside by the chopper."

Venom snarled until the Sandman stuffed his mouth full of his gritty pseudo-flesh. He dragged the alien villain along as he followed Paladin out of the warehouse. The door shut behind them calmly, leaving the woman all to herself in the darkened space.

She couldn't believe it. Had they really just left? Did she trust them enough to actually believe what they said? She stared at the dropped device, desperate to pick it up. Ever since her eyes had opened she had this dead space inside of her that just couldn't be filled. There was a possibility that the man in the purple body armor had been telling the truth, but it could just as easily be a clever trap. The thing might detonate by pressing the button on it.

Her memories were a hodgepodge at best, and it was driving her crazy. She needed to take the risk. After all, what kind of a life would she be missing out on? Cautiously, she picked up the device and pressed the red button as instructed. The small screen on it flashed to life, displaying an attractive, dark-haired man dressed in a fine tailored suit.

"Ah," the man said over the speaker. "Finally. Hello, my dear. I'm sure you are very confused at this turn of events, but I assure you that everything will be alright."

"Why should I believe you? What the hell is happening?"

"All will be answered shortly." The man smiled, somehow soothing her aggression. He looked familiar, but why? "I have many names and identities throughout the world, but have always remained a foreigner. Simply put, you and I have much to discuss."

* * *

TO BE CONCLUDED


	3. Chapter 3

**Silver Sable's Wild Pack**

Issue #3 – "One Life To Live"

Plots by Barry Reese, Script by D. Golightly

* * *

"And why should I believe you?" the young silver-haired woman asked.

The man she addressed wanted to sigh, but kept his composure in check. The girl, only eighteen years of age and barely able to be called a woman yet, had been brought to one of the many buildings he owned throughout Europe. After a lengthy conversation via video-phone he had finally convinced her to join the rest of the Wild Pack in coming to him.

"We've been over this," the man, whose identity was one of the best kept secrets on the planet, said with a touch of annoyance. "You're confused and tired. You aren't sure who to trust, but I know that you feel a tinge of recognition when you look at me. You and I…it's complicated, my dear."

His office was immaculate, housed on the top floor of a thirty-story building. The spotless hardwood floors were polished enough to reflect their images back up at them. She looked around the walls for the umpteenth time, as if still unsure of her surroundings. Had she made the right decision back in Strudguard?

"Explain it to me again."

"Very well," the man said, who seldom few were able to refer to as the Foreigner. "I am what some would call a soldier or fortune, or a mercenary. I have accumulated a vast amount of wealth as well as a global network, even though very few know of my existence. I prefer it that way.

"Years ago, during a mission in Southeast Asia, I stumbled across another mercenary who proved to be my equal. She was incredible and artistic in her flair for life. We fell in love, even against her father's approval. For a time we met in secret, until her father, in a rage befitting the most despicable of monsters, took her from me."

The girl stared at the floor, contemplating the Foreigner's story. "He killed her…"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. His rage was unbridled. It took all of my strength to save myself and not a day has passed since then that I don't wish that it was my life that had been taken instead of hers.

"I went underground, hiding from the madman until I could find a way to exact my revenge. I knew it would not be enough to simply kill him; I had to utterly destroy him. I admit, looking back, that my anger was controlling my actions. In my investigations I discovered a plot that would disgrace the memory of my beloved."

The girl shifted in her seat, now looking at the back of the man's head as he repeated his story to her again. He stared out the floor to ceiling window, overlooking the city underneath. "That's when you found me," she stated.

"Yes. Ernst Sablinova, in a manner that only he could think righteous, had hired a man named Gaunt to bring back my beloved. They used DNA samples they had retained from their medical facility and began cloning her. When I discovered this I nearly destroyed the entire complex, but when I saw photos of the clones I was shocked. I thought that maybe there was hope that could be pulled from Ernst's madness. There was a chance that he may not have been as insane as I judged him to be.

"I made Ernst's Wild Pack a better offer for their services. The almighty dollar still remains a great equalizer. They agreed to sabotage the lab, freeing you. You were only slightly half way through the maturation process when you awoke, which is why you are still confused. If we did not make our move when we did, you would have been programmed to be loyal to no one but them. The cloning process is an imperfect science and I'm afraid that when we liberated you that your memories had not yet been fully integrated into your psyche."

The Foreigner placed his arms behind his back and turned around to face the young woman. He could see tears forming in her eyes, but he knew that he had finally gotten her to accept what he said as true. He moved around the desk to her, offering her a hand. She accepted and stood up, looking deep into his eyes.

"The rest you know," he told her. "I do not expect anything from you…I just knew that I had to get you away from that terrible place so that you had a chance to live your own life."

She let her hand slip out of his and turned her back to him. They stood there in the quiet office for some time, neither one willing to say the next word. The girl, finally accepting that she was the clone of a woman she had never met, a woman named Silver Sable by the entire world, clenched her eyes tightly shut. Her breathing slowed as she sifted through the images in her head of people she had never met or spoken to, recalling intimate details of encounters with men she didn't know.

When she opened her eyes again the sense of innocence had been removed from them.

"What's our next move?" she asked.

The Foreigner placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "We take back what is rightfully ours, my dear."

He saw her nod in acknowledgement. The time had come for the endgame, and with her on his side Ernst didn't stand a chance of survival. Not when she was so young…

…and impressionable.

* * *

"Cool it, bucko!" the trained soldier called Paladin ordered.

Venom yanked his black, slithering tendrils out of the storage locker he had just eviscerated in anger. The Wild Pack, after dropping off the young version of Silver Sable, had been ordered to wait in the subbasement of the Foreigner's building while he met with the girl. The shocktroops had mostly been kept in the dark about the operation but the three heavy hitters that led the team were starting to feel restless.

"Can't says that I blame him much," the Sandman responded. "We just backstabbed Ernst Sablinova, and you know he ain't gonna take too kindly to that."

Paladin, sans his goggles and headdress, pointed an accusing finger at the growling Venom. "And we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if it wasn't for this loose cannon here! The old man had this coming, you know it. It was just a matter of time. The problem is that the clock got cut short because of this monster's bloodlust. We nearly got found out because of him. Ernst wouldn't have known a thing until it was too late, but now we're hiding out."

"This Foreigner guy pays better anyway," Sandman added.

"We had the chance to rip open her stomach!" Venom cried as he stared down Paladin. "Money doesn't matter to us, not when the girl has gotten away!"

"For the last time," Paladin said, "she's didn't get away. We weren't going in to kill her, we never were. Dear lord, this is why we didn't bring you in on the deal. I knew you would fuck this up somehow."

"Then why not let us go?" Venom demanded. "Or are you too cowardly to let us roam free?"

"Screw this." Paladin drew out his signature handgun and aimed for Venom's head. Just as he pulled the trigger, a gritty and monstrous hand pushed his arm away and the bullet ricocheted off the ceiling and lodged itself in the wall. Paladin traced the hand back to its owner, the Sandman, who had converted his body into its alternate form.

"Chill out," Sandman said, "or you'll blow this for all of us. You think this foreign fruitcake is gonna want to keep us on board if he catches us fighting amongst ourselves?"

A console suddenly switched to life on the same wall the bullet had impacted in. The screen brightly lit up an image of their new employer, who did not look happy.

"We leave in twenty minutes," the Foreigner said, ignoring the obvious awkward situation he had caught the Pack in. "Be on the roof before then, ready for an assault. _All_ of you."

The video communication shut off, leaving the three heavy hitters of the Wild Pack to regain their composure. Paladin reached for his goggles and headdress after trying his hardest not to gag from the disgusting grin that Venom had plastered on his face.

* * *

Ernst Sablinova had made many mistakes over the course of his life. Bad business deals had caused him to lose vast sums of money and ignorance of his enemies' capabilities had led him to lose valuable networks of acquisition. But his most recent mistake was thinking that he could play God.

He sat hunched at his desk with his hands on his head and a half empty bottle of single malt scotch in front of him. Where exactly had he gone wrong? He wondered what had driven him to so recklessly toy with fate, and why he persisted in allowing himself to go on. The amount of sins he had committed were astronomical when compared to most others.

A red light on his desk computer blinked, but he ignored its summons. Painful memories of loss and regret were berating and distracting him. He wasn't in the mood to handle a client call or some complaint from a lower executive. Not only were his troubles in the past but in the present as well, as earlier that morning the Foreigner's lawyers had paid him a visit as promised.

He was going to lose everything. The false identity that the Foreigner had assumed during his short-lived marriage to his daughter, his _real_ daughter, was proper enough in the eyes of the law. He had no way to prove the fraud and now he was going to lose it all.

The red light continued to blink silently but Ernst was too caught up in his own misery to acknowledge what was happening on the first floor of his building.

* * *

"Take out the monitor array!" Paladin called out as he gunned down two security guards. His twin pistols flashed like lightning as they fired again and again, faster than most people could follow. His aim held true for the majority of his shots, taking down a large number of guards in a short amount of time.

Smoke still clung to the edges of the front entrance where the shaped charges had exploded. Given their intimate knowledge of Silver Sable International's headquarters, Paladin had marked the front door as their easiest entry point, stating that Ernst wouldn't think anyone had the guts to do it. The shocktroops with them had been left behind since they couldn't count on their loyalty until the assault was over.

Venom shot a webline at a fleeing shocktrooper, snagging him in the back and dragging him back into the brawl. His flopping red tongue drooled onto the floor as he anxiously pulled in his prey. His sharp teeth plunged into the trooper's leg through the padded armor, cutting into the flesh.

"Ease up," the Sandman said as he slithered by Venom on a mound of sand that had taken the place of his legs. "We need these guys on our side after we take over, got it?"

Venom spat the leg out and yanked back again on the webline that was still connected to the trooper's back. He grumbled something inaudible over the noise of the fight as he swung the shocktrooper into the wall, knocking him unconscious.

The Sandman shook his head, causing bits of grainy sand to fly off of his face. He hated working with someone like the symbiote, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. Not when he was wanted for federal crimes in several countries. He needed the support that the Wild Pack offered.

A series of small explosions in his chest caught his attention. He looked down to see a handful of bullets slide out of his sand body and plop onto the floor. He looked up to see a shaking trooper holding an even shakier assault rifle and smiled. Stretching his arms out he flung one appendage at the trooper, forcing his fist to solidify. He punched the trooper with all the force of a sandstorm compacted into a rock hard boulder, sending him flying into a support pillar in the lobby. The trooper fell to the floor and didn't get up.

"Take your own advice," Paladin ordered. "We're just making a path for the girl, remember? Get your ass in gear, sandbox, and don't screw this up!"

The former villain called the Sandman swore under his breath as he changed tactics, recalling his elongated arm back into his body. He let his head fall forward and stuck his arms both out, widening them as the pliability of his body allowed. He propelled himself faster than a normal man could ran, sliding along the smooth floor atop a mound of rolling sand. His outstretched and interlocked fingers formed a wedge, which he drove between several more troopers and through a freestanding counter.

Behind him Paladin motioned for the second team to come through, which consisted of the Foreigner's own men that were adorned in solid black body armor. They swept in to secure the lobby, taking up positions around the room to cover all possible angles.

The young clone stepped through the secured entryway, looking over the wreckage of the foyer and the lobby beyond. Her silver spandex bodysuit remained unscathed in juxtaposition to the chaos around her. A few of the still conscious shocktroops caught sight of her and were visibly shaken.

"We have to keep moving," the Foreigner said from behind her. He had traded in his custom tailored suit for a finely cut black bodysuit, similar in design to the girl's. He approached her side and kept moving, motioning for her to do the same. "It won't be long until reinforcements arrive, plus I'm sure the local authorities will be curious as to the explosion."

The Foreigner ordered his soldiers to stay on the sides while the rest of them moved forward. "Paladin," he said as he moved through the room. "Secure the rest of the building except for the top floor."

"Aye, aye," Paladin replied.

"Are you coming, my dear?"

The young woman looked at the now quieted lobby, matching the impressions with those that still flooded her mind. She locked her eyes onto the Foreigner's outstretched hand, which bid her to come to him.

Instead of replying she quickly closed the gap between them and kept going, leaving her supposed savior behind her. The conviction in her soul, the only emotion she was sure was real, burned with a desire to see an end to this madness.

* * *

Ernst found himself leaning against the window behind his desk when his door was kicked in. He whirled around, half expecting to see one of the Foreigner's assassins aiming a gun at him. In a sense he was right.

The girl that had escaped from his facility, someone that looked exactly as his daughter had years ago, stood in the doorway with a black Russian Stechkin APS machine pistol. He knew that the weapon, regardless of its size, had enough fire power to punch a hole right through him. The look in his pseudo-daughter's eyes told him that she did indeed possess the conviction needed to pull the trigger.

She glared at him and stepped into the room. Her breathing became heavier but her hand held the gun steady, pointed directly at his head.

"Please," he said. "Please, just listen to me. I can explain everything."

"Explain what?" she shot back. "Explain how you practically abandoned your own daughter because you couldn't handle her in control of her own life? Explain how you desecrated her memory by cloning her? How you created _me_?" A single tear began to form in the corner of her eye as she spoke. "I'm just a weapon you made. I'm not even a real person."

"That's not true!" Ernst replied eagerly. "You don't know—"

He paused when he saw a tall, dark-haired man enter his office. A few days ago the Foreigner had entered his office unwelcome, informing him that in the near future he would be taking everything from him. Ernst wondered what the international criminal would say now that his forecast had come true.

"Isn't it true?" the Foreigner responded. "You seized complete control of Silver Sable International's operations after your daughter's death. You brokered backwater deals that led to a more lethal Wild Pack, all the while providing the funding you needed to run your cloning process. Tell me I'm lying. Tell _her_ I'm lying."

A tear slid down her face as she waited for Ernst to reply. Instead he just let out the breath he had been holding and seemed to slump in his posture. He looked defeated. Staring at the floor he let the bottle of scotch slip out of his fingers. He shook his head slightly but remained silent.

A rapid succession of gunshots rung out and the window behind Ernst shattered. A hollow wind swept into the room, nearly knocking Ernst over. A small strand of smoke came out of the woman's machine pistol, but it was obvious that she had intentionally missed Ernst, wanting to simply hear something from his mouth. He stayed quiet.

"That's what I thought," the Foreigner said. "Come, my dear. It's time to end this."

She quickly stalked forward, causing Ernst to hold his hands up as if to surrender. She spun him around and placed the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. Her foot flashed out into the back of his knee and he was forced to kneel. Ernst looked through the shattered window, watching the clouds roll by as if nothing had changed. He supposed that the world moved on, regardless of his actions.

"Finish it," the Foreigner commanded.

Ernst heard the slick gloves wrapped around her hands tighten. He knew she was pulling back on the trigger slowly, preparing to fire the final shot. Was she hesitating?

The words bubbled up from his gut before he could even think about it. He hadn't expected them to be his last words, but he thought it fitting to say it now to his daughter, even if it wasn't actually her. He had rarely said them to her in life and realized that he instantly regretted saying it as soon as his lips closed again.

"I love you."

"What?" she said. "What did you say?"

"It doesn't matter," the Foreigner said behind her, irritated. "Kill him!"

"What did you say?" she repeated, her voice louder.

"I…I said that I love you. You're my daughter, no matter what form you take. I know that now."

She let the barrel of the machine pistol pull away slightly from his head. The memories that she could never claim as her own suddenly washed over her. Images of a man that looked like a younger version of Ernst telling her that everything would be alright, telling her to train hard and always be cautious, and also telling her to always be careful of who she trusted.

Her vision became blurred as her head started to pound. The amount of information swirling in her head was clashing with what she knew to be real. She wobbled back and gripped her forward, straining to resist screaming from the pain.

"Kill him!" the Foreigner screamed.

She spun around, raising the gun in her hand. The room was spinning, leaving her disoriented. She turned back to Ernst and aimed the machine pistol at him again. The pain stabbing at her brain made her drop the gun to the floor as she stumbled back again.

"Stupid bitch!" she heard her supposed savior yell. He ran forward and went to scoop up the dropped weapon, but she swung her knee up into his midsection. He doubled over, surprised by the hit.

She followed the move up with a punch to his face, but by the time her fist reached where his head was he had moved back out of the way. He returned the blow with one of his own, catching her on the temple with a quick jab. She screamed from the added pain and jumped into the air, aiming a spinning kick from the Foreigner's chest.

"This is pathetic," he said as he batted the foot away with ease. "I'm one of the most highly skilled hand-to-hand combatants on the planet. I beat the real Silver Sable enough to know all your moves, and you aren't even fully developed."

He stepped into her stance and shot his elbow out into her throat, forcing her to gag. With the same motion he slammed the back of his balled fist into her face and broke her nose. Blood gushed out of her nostrils and instantly stained her silver attire.

"You're nothing but a mistake," he said. "I let my ego get the better of me by awakening you. I figured a clone that hadn't yet matured would be easily to manipulate. I thought having Ernst's own daughter kill him for me would be poetic somehow, but I never should have freed a worthless runt like you when I could have just done it myself."

He stabbed his extended fingers out, intending to snap her neck with one precise hit. Instead he was shocked to see that she had blocked the attack and had somehow caught his hand. How fast was she? No normal human could move like that.

"I am _not_ a mistake!" she yelled.

She bent his fingers back and snapped several bones. The Foreigner yelled from the pain but his cries were short-lived. The young woman held tightly onto his fingers and flipped him over, tossing him out of the open window. He sailed a few feet out into the air before dropping down, slamming into the pavement thirty stories below with a sickening thud.

She stood in the window and watched him fall. The blood from her nose still dripped slowly onto her chest, but she didn't think anything of it. She stared at the broken form of the Foreigner, her mind focusing on the moment at hand.

"Silver," Ernst said.

She finally turned to see him standing behind her. He took her in his arms and held her tightly. "My daughter," he said. "You've come back to me."

The wind continued to blow over them but it had died in strength. In the distance a number of sirens could be heard coming closer, but the woman, a reborn Silver Sable, paid them no mind.

For the first time since her awakening she knew who she was.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

"Do you think they'll believe it?" Silver Sable asked her father as they stepped back into their waiting limousine.

Ernst Sablinova waited for the door to close before he answered her. "Why would they not? As far as they know you are living proof of your own story. The media will eat up whatever we feed them, my daughter."

The limo started to move, taking them away from the reporters that had gathered for their announced press conference. It had been two days since the Foreigner's death, two days since Ernst had regained control of Silver Sable International.

Silver had told the eagerly waiting cameras and microphones how she was Ernst's granddaughter, kept hidden from the world for fear of retaliation by his many enemies. Named after her mother, the first Silver Sable, she had chosen to come out of hiding now that her mother's killer was dead.

She told them how her father was the one who had killed her mother, who was also the international criminal known as the Foreigner. She wove lie after lie and they all took their notes and hollered their questions, but overall it seemed to be believable. After all, as Ernst had pointed out, who would doubt her?

"I'm not sure how well I'll be able to pose as my own daughter," Silver said. "And what about the Pack?"

"I'll handle them. Their loyalty may be questionable at best, but in the end they will respond to me. Gaunt has disappeared completely since the Foreigner's attack. Perhaps it is best if the Wild Pack is disbanded after all is said and done."

"No."

Ernst raised an eyebrow. "No?" he asked.

"I'm going to need more of a purpose in my life now that I've reclaimed it," Silver Sable answered. "We'll need to restructure of course—"

"We?" Ernst leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his chin. "Do you intend to join the Pack?"

"No," Silver Sable replied as she looked through the window of the limo, admiring the Symkarian landscape. "I intend to lead them."

* * *

END?


End file.
